


Moonlight sonata

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: Word prompt asked by fancyfanstuff over tumblrThere were stories told by those who lived beyond the barrier of trees that linked all the kingdoms of the forest, that there used to be a visible moon on such nights; the pearly-white glow it gave one that was now told by troubadours for only a dime per every few verses. They said, to those with starry-filled eyes, that the moon used to be the source of magic of those who now called themselves mages.





	Moonlight sonata

The forest was covered on its usual darkness; the kind of one that jumped from branch to branch with tendrils long enough to cover from the roots of the trees to every leave they found on its wake. Moonless night, like every other that had been before, the twinkling stars barely managed to cast a grey-like hue over the very top of the tallest trees; their light never truly reaching the soil beneath them nor the animals that squirmed around. The nocturnal ones, the ones that, with eyes like liquid gold, guarded over the shadows with increasing energy.

There were stories told by those who lived beyond the barrier of trees that linked all the kingdoms of the forest, that there used to be a visible moon on such nights; the pearly-white glow it gave one that was now told by troubadours for only a dime per every few verses. They said, to those with starry-filled eyes, that the moon used to be the source of magic of those who now called themselves mages.

It wasn’t like they weren’t trusted: everyone knew that while the moon remained invisible it was still there; covered by a spell that some believed to be a curse. It didn’t matter; the storytellers would say; since every 28 years the light from the stars would burn brighter as their Queen would glimmer in the sky; bringing the silver and power, to the forest’s soil. Enough to soak the ley lines that run below the trees they would say: infusing them with the magic that were later on stored by faeries and dwarves and then sold to the mages.

But if you were in a particular part of the forest, some of the very old charlatans would narrate between whispers as the children were led away by busy parents, the moon would not be the most interesting thing one would see but how it descended to the forest itself; a fog that would then transform into the sorcerer she was only to meet up with a mysterious knight. One that, untouched by time and age, would always wait for her.

Which was why, in that very particular night, the owls and spiders, the fae and were beasts, all awaited as the night trickled by, approaching its zenith.

In the middle of a clearing, an almost  perfect circle; a series of stones rested: old runes written down with magic that shone in mauve and white as running clouds covered the grey touch the stars left behind and, sitting in the middle of them all, in the circle made by faeries way too long ago, a figure stepped out from the darkness that kept on feeding from the nearby trees.

Eyes as green as emeralds opened, fingers as pale as the stories said the moon was splayed over robes as black as the night. The woman that appeared in a flurry made out of still not fallen dew and whispered words was many things. A knight, however, she was not.

The troubadours had almost every part of the story right but not this one. Not that she thought of them when she straightened her back; the leather-like fabric that covered her turning into almost silk as she rose her face towards the spot of sky she was able to distinguish over the thick trees. She didn’t need to be able to look into the darkness to know she had been early; like every other time she had entered into the clearing, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t run her tongue against her teeth; ruby-red like lips parting as she let out a sigh; hair so blonde it was almost white falling around her face; framing it, as she run her right hand through the tresses.

She was impatient; always had been, and she hated to wait. Even after having lived this cycle a few times already.

If she would have had the time or the will, she would have appeared in the nearest town only to explain that while she knew how to use a sword, she had never been considered any one’s hero. Not while she had been fully mortal.

But she didn’t have the time for that and so, she cupped her hands in front of her lips and whispered a soft hex into them, quickly extending them afar from her body and watching as dirty white lines fell, running between mud and fallen leaves until they reached the trees. They lighted them with thousands of dots that twinkled with an even brighter intensity than the stars did.

“Come on, come on.” Her voice was breathy and deeper than one would have said from her frame; not fragile but slender, slightly broad shoulders and the gait of one who knew how to stand for themselves.

Boots barely not making any sound, the warlock walked to the furthest part of the circle, hands grazing the stones as her eyes read the lines she already had memorized; the spell that had been made so long ago pulsing under her gaze. She, like she always did, let her mind wander; feeling the short dagger that had been put into her hands as the words “blood magic” were whispered to her with the same heat a love promise ever would.

She hadn’t even halted nor doubted. She had begged them to create a loophole after all; she had asked them to do something with the way magic was being siphoned out of her; the Queen. She had been granted answers to questions she hadn’t even asked, and she hadn’t liked the majority of them all. Which was why, when the dagger had given back her name; trapping it forever in squiggly lines and entrusting that she would never die as long as she kept the dagger near her chest, she had only needed a second before she had replied with a quick nod that had made the Queen gasp.

Her Queen hadn’t been entirely too pleased; worried would have been a better descriptor. Angry as well.

“You will not be able to be mortal again.” Her voice had been light like autumn breeze and she had shivered at it; her eyes less bright, her hair still gold rather than white.

She had kissed skin so soft it felt like the silk that now covered her body just as a vortex of magic began to circle around her; gusts of wind attacking her lungs.

“I don’t care.”

She had meant the words; of course she had meant them. Yet, she stopped her recollections of past events as she rose her right hand towards her chest; where she had felt her heart being plucked out by the power the dagger had only to it having been given back to her with a crown made out of apple tree built around the glimmering core it had had. The warlock swallowed as she pressed the pads of her index and middle finger against her pulse point at her neck; counting the seconds with the aid of the now crowned heart, the one that still kept on beating after all this time.

Less than a minute.

She had knelt in front of the Queen after that; body covered in shivers as her former mortal body accommodated the magic the Fae had granted her; promises of true love and soulmates falling flat on her lap as she realized that they were far too simple to truly convey what she wanted to say.

“I will choose you.” She had said instead with a lopsided smile, the kind of one she knew the Moon liked on her. “No matter what.”

Dark eyes illuminating her with brown and mauve, they had glazed with unshed tears as the last rune had been carved; hex complete.

“Be here.” The Queen had whispered with scorching need.

“I will be.”

And she had been there, for every cycle that had started and ended; for every 28 years. And so, she would keep on doing it.

She smiled as she heard the shiver that run through the creatures that had gathered around the clearing. Some of them were old enough to have been present during the first time. The most of them, however, were far too young and the Fairies had erased her from the Annals. Turning her into an untraceable creature. Which, the warlock, Emma, thought, was probably for the best.

She had transformed into the Dark One after all. The one who kept in check the magic given to the mages; the one who was the balance every speck of power needed to work. No one needed to know she was just as corporeal as the moon was. No one needed to know she had given her fealty to her. No one but them.

With that last thought, she positioned back in the very center of the circle, her eyes to the still dark sky, her hands slightly raised as the sleeves of her doublet slid up her forearms, her magic visible through her skin. She didn’t chant as the Fae had done. She didn’t whisper nor called forth the magic on itself: she let it pour out of her; a beacon, a trigger, for what was about to happen.

It came slow at first, as if mist was beginning to descend over the clearing. It coated the branches and the creatures; turning thicker by the second as the trees, answering to a pact made once upon a time, moved and let out the sky to walk into the forest; immense and ever expanding.

Then, as the fog grew, wisps of it beginning to crawl up Emma’s clothes, embedding themselves to her, the vague grey light started to shine stronger; a dark spot in the sky twirling and shinning as the hex dissolved. Crickets and owls sang, the tune one no mortal would understand and one the warlock still had a hard time on doing so.

“I’m here.” She whispered, voice broken, as she closed her eyes. She always did so; no matter how many times she told herself she would keep them open next time.

She heard the first step over leaves, the resulting crunch at her back one that made her shiver with glee. She let her head fall onwards, her hair falling over her shoulders. Shoulders that trembled as she heard a hum that never failed to make her smile.

She had given her mortality happily. Never once doubting or fearing for the consequences. And there was this second that always made her even surer that she had taken the right alternative.

She felt a presence with a magical signature that felt like ozone and fire and sea and so she opened her eyes just in time to feel fingers traveling up her spine; her clothes magicked away by a simple flick of a wrist she had yet to see. They pooled around her, useless; and, as she let the first gust of wind hit her; she turned, dropping her hands as dirty white kept on bleeding out of her; eager.

Regina didn’t change her appearance. But every time they met, Emma would say she was even more gorgeous than the previous time.

Lips just as red as hers were curved and brown eyes that hold stars and planets were focused on her; mauve and lilac lapping at the sides of a face the white-haired woman longed to touch.

“You came.”

Emma laughed. There was always this touch of wonder. The one that made her want to kiss Regina senseless as the moon, finally, covered them both with its silver touch.

“Of course I did.” She replied, hands already burning, fingers sparkling. She let out a gasp as she felt being pulled against the Queen, fingers digging into the skin at her back; lines drawn into her back; protective, demanding, loving.

“I’ve missed you.” The words were quickly silenced by a kiss; one that only grew with intensity as the owls and crickets kept on chanting; the magic they both emanated quickly powering the ground, the rocks, the water that run deep beyond the first meters that were the forest’s floor.

And so, the storytellers would sometimes add, with glassy eyes and the scent of an ancient spell affecting them: the two lovers had a night before the sun rose once more; the moon disappearing in the sky; gone once again for the next 28 years. But it didn’t matter; they repeated to the ones who would pout. Because the knight would always be there for her Queen. And the Queen would always seek the knight.


End file.
